Elf Puncher Read online

  Warpin did exactly that. He danced around Oldier like a buzzing fly. He knocked the giant in the legs, the ribs, and even got in a headshot or two by leaping onto the ropes. Everyone waited throughout the eight rounds for Warpin’s special move.

  Each fighter had a magical move that often gave them the upper hand in a match. However, a fighter could only use that move once. They had to have enough energy left to culminate the magic for the move, so they couldn’t wait too long, but if they did it too early, it might not be as effective, only damaging their opponent instead of knocking them out and stealing the win.

  “Morning, Warpin,” I said aloud to my favorite competitor. “It’s a good day for a fight, isn’t it?”

  I threw the half-giant’s catchphrase back at him with a small chuckle. It’s how I started my day, with that sentiment as a reminder to get up and tackle the day so I could get to the fights that night. I would work on the farm throughout the day and then head to the Blue Water Inn to watch that evening’s match.

  There was at least a match every night. The city used magic to project live images out to different points in the city and a select few out in the country where I resided. I once tried to acquire my own conductor, so I didn’t have to venture out of my home to watch the matches, but the signal weakened all the way out here. That and I got one of the old generation conductors, so I wasn’t sure the thing tuned in to the new projection signals anymore.

  As much as I resented the morning, I knew the sooner I got my work done, the faster the day would go. Then the sun would set, and I would get to settle into my favorite part of the day. But to get to that part, I had to get out of bed.

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up. I reached up and stretched, a series of pops crackling down my spine. My neck responded in harmony with its own series of cracks as the tension from last night’s trek back home released into the air.

  I assembled some relatively clean clothes, knowing that they would just get dirty again in the next couple of hours. When I was doing so, I caught a glimpse of myself in the cracked mirror behind the bedroom door.

  I hunched down to see my full self, leaning forward a bit to examine my face. My facial hair was unruly, matching my thick, long chestnut hair. I pushed my thick eyebrows together and grimaced in an effort to look intimidating. My narrow nose and slim cheeks didn’t help the matter, but the deep blue eyes and tight jaw were in my favor.

  I flexed my arms a couple of times, wishing that my muscles offered a bit more shape. Still, I forced them to bulged and tightened my stomach for good measure. There weren’t six muscles there, but I could get away with the four I had. I flexed my stubby toes before jumping into a couple of different stances, offering myself a jab or two in the mirror.

  “Ha,” I exhaled with each blow, as I energized myself for the daunting work I had ahead.

  I picked up the pace and quickened my jabs until my shoulders burned. In my quest to speed up, I didn’t pay attention to my control. Suddenly, I stretched my arm a little too far, and my fist collided with the mirror. The glass cracked, visually and audibly. The door shook with the impact and sent the small portrait tucked in the corner floating to the floor.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d accidentally broken the mirror, hence the other cracks in it. I examined my fist for any cuts and was surprised to find none. So I bent down and pluck the portrait off the ground.

  “Sorry, Ma,” I muttered to the figures on the paper. “Sorry, Pa.”

  I maneuvered my parents back into the upper right corner of the mirror, on full display. Despite it being a posed portrait, they both smiled back at me. They had this done after their wedding, so they were younger than I ever knew them. However, these two were clearly my parents. My build matched my father’s, stocky and wide. But my blue eyes came from my mother’s side.

  “And your smile,” she would remind me. “You got your smile from me too!”

  It was absolutely true. We were twins when we smiled, lighting up the world. My dad said it was his favorite sight in the world. His wife and his son radiating happiness.

  I tested out that smile now, but it was weak. Something unfriendly that didn’t even reach my eyes. There was no shine, no laughter. I returned my face to its routine grimace but made sure to tap the photo twice before leaving the room. I gave Ma and Pa the proper goodbyes before going about my day.

  Feeding the animals took hours. There were so many of them scattered about the farm, but I wanted to make sure they got their morning meal before I did. Eating before they did seemed wrong when they worked so much harder than me. That might not have been entirely true, but my father always taught me to feed the animals before ourselves. It usually worked out well because by the time we finished their feeding, Ma would have breakfast ready back at the farmhouse.

  Now that it was just me, there were no eggs, bread, or jam waiting. Nevertheless, I continued my pa’s lesson because, in all honesty, I didn’t know any different.

  The minute I exited the house, Graham bounded up to me with more exuberance than anyone had the right to have in the morning. While he was a dog, I still resented his enthusiasm for the day. His shaggy fur hung long and tangled, his patches of black and white rolling in waves as he ran. He pushed his snout right into my legs and begged for pets.

  I bent down to oblige. “Well, someone stole all the energy this morning, didn’t they?”

  Graham licked my face and then barked once, his own good morning greeting to me.

  “Yes, I know,” I said as I rose up to my feet. “Work to be done. Off we go then.”

  At my words, Graham launched ahead of me and led the way to our first stop at the chicken coup. I wished each hen a good morning as they clucked about, huddling about my legs with flurried excitement. I dropped their feed in the pen and made sure to spread it out, so they didn’t climb over one another to reach it. Immediately, when the feed touched the ground, they hurried away from me and pecked at it hungrily.

  “And here I thought you were excited to see me,” I joked with the birds.

  Graham barked twice, keeping me from socializing. That dog sure knew how to keep me on schedule.

  We crossed to the pigpen where they dozed about, less eager than the chickens. This year’s stock was growing nicely and would be ready soon to be sold off. Nevertheless, while these animals were in my care, I treated them as decently and humanely as I could.

  I stepped on the bottom rung of the fence and called out, “Come and get your slop!”

  The pigs lumbered over, fat rocking side to side like a boat at sea. Despite their filth, I patted their heads while they dug their noses into the trough. Some of the littlest piglets clambered over one another to reach. One even body slammed into the runt in order to get to the food.

  “Hey now,” I scolded, “none of that.”

  I plucked the runt out of the fray and held him close. I stroked his head, letting his stink and mud get all over my shirt. I didn’t care as I petted the piglet back to a normal heart rate. Once I felt him become contented, I put him back with the others. Then I grabbed the culprit, aiming again for another finishing wrestling move. I snatched him mid-leap and held him up in the air, face to face.

  “While I admire your moves,” I said in a strict tone, “you can’t be doing that. He needs to eat more than you, and while that may seem counterintuitive to you, you’ve got to let him, you hear?”

  “I don’t think he can understand you,” a light voice said, interrupting the piglet’s and my conversation.

  In perfect synchronicity, the pig and I turned our heads towards the source of the noise. A young woman stood several feet away as if she didn’t want to intrude on my moment with the animals. An apron wrapped around her round frame, where she wore a loose blue shirt underneath and high work boots that went up to her calves. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, revealing a series of intricate ink drawings that I couldn’t make out from this distance. Her hair started out dark at the top of h
er head and then faded into a lighter blond color towards the straight ends. She had a dimple on the left side of her face when she smiled, her plump cheeks rounding up and into her face.

  Graham dashed up to her without hesitation. He sat patiently at her feet as she offered him a treat from one of the pockets in her apron. Then she rubbed his head and walked towards me.

  I watched Deity approach with a lump in my throat. Whenever I looked at the cook from the Blue Water Inn, she made all of the sense fly right out of my head. Like she cast her own silencing spell or something wicked like that. I knew that wasn’t true, because she was human, like me, and didn’t have magic. But it sure felt magical when she walked up to me, a crate tucked under her arm.

  “Do you always talk to the animals like they can understand you?” Deity asked with an innocent half-smile.

  “What makes you think they can’t understand me?” I replied, thrown by her question.

  “Well,” Deity started, releasing a chuckle, “it’s a pig.”

  “Pigs are very intelligent creatures,” I argued, adding a definitive nod to affirm my statement. “More intelligent than sheep, that’s for sure.”

  “So, you believe it’s going to listen to you?” Deity tilted her head towards the piglet. “That he’s going to let the other one eat before him?”

  “I think so,” I said. “I mean, he doesn’t speak the same language or nothing, but he knows what I’m saying through my tone, you see?”

  “No,” Deity admitted with a light laugh. “But I believe that you believe it.”

  “Well, what else am I supposed to do?” I reasoned with her. “I can’t very well go and punish the little thing when it doesn’t know it’s done wrong. He’s got to be taught.”

  “You have more patience than me,” Deity said.

  I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or exactly how to respond. My words, once so easy when speaking about the animals, something comfortable, zoomed out of my head. I left us sitting in an awkward silence. I couldn’t even look at her, so I kicked my shoe in the dirt if only give my nerves somewhere to go other than my shaking hands.

  “Normally, I wouldn’t bother you, but I didn’t see the milk out by the gate where it normally is,” Deity said as she jerked her free thumb behind her, indicating the gate. “I thought I’d come to check if you’d gotten to it this morning?”

  “Oh yeah,” I stuttered. I gently set the piglet back in his pen and wiped my dirty hands on my pants. For the first time, I registered how disheveled I must have looked. Mud splattered across my clothes. My hair hanging wild and free from my head. To her, I might as well have slept in the pigpen myself.

  “I can fill those bottles for you,” I offered without looking Deity in the eye. I gestured vaguely to the crate. “Do you want me to take it back to the barn?”

  “I really need it by midday,” Deity said with a slight hesitation. “Can you get it done by then?”

  “Sure,” I nodded even though my routine would be thrown off by this request. “I can do that.”

  “Thank you, Rico,” Deity said with an award-winning smile. “It’s for the special tonight, a cheesy noodle dish. One of your favorites, right?”

  I could only nod as Deity handed off the crate to me. The empty bottles rattled noisily against the wood slats. I avoided touching her hands, so I wouldn’t get mud on them, as I plucked the box from her grasp. Suddenly a thought occurred to me, and I struggled to get it out. When I opened my mouth, an odd gurgling sound emerged, strange enough to warrant a whimper from Graham.

  “What was that?” Deity said, apparently unphased.

  “Do you want to… uh,” I said as I juggled the box up onto my shoulder. “Do you want to stick around? While I finish these off for you?”

  “That’s sweet of you, Rico,” Deity said. She reached out and touched my upper arm. “But I have to get back to the inn and start prepping for the lunch rush. I’ll send Antonius for them in a bit.”

  Antonius was one of the bartenders at the Blue Water, and I tried not to groan. I nodded in what I hoped was an understanding way. It seemed to work because Deity offered me a small smile. When her hand slid away from my arm, that spot on my skin grew suddenly cold, like it had been doused in ice. I wanted her touch to come back and warm me up, to radiate into my very bones.

  Instead, I offered her a dopey wave as she crossed back to the gate and headed back down the road. Graham still sat across the way. His pink tongue reached up and licked his nose. Then he cocked his head to one side as if to say, “You should have said goodbye to her, you fool.”

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I snapped back at the dog. “Come on now, we have to milk the cows.”

  Graham barked in protest, knowing that we were supposed to visit the sheep next.

  “I know we’re going out of order, but this is for Deity. She needs it right away,” I argued with my companion.

  The dog growled low as more of a warning than anything.

  “Hey,” I said sharply, pointing my finger at the animal. “Who is the boss around here? Me! Don’t you forget it.”

  I stomped off in the other direction towards the cows and their shelter, whereas my dog sat definitely on the path leading to the sheep. I paused in my tracks, unsettled by the fact that Graham refused to follow. He raised his shaggy face into the air stubbornly. I closed my eyes and groaned, knowing how this was going to go down.

  “Fine,” I relented. “We’ll round up the sheep quick, okay?”

  Graham skipped and bounced about when I crossed back over to him. The dog dashed ahead while I shifted the crate to my other shoulder. So much for being the boss. Between Graham and I, we both really knew who was in charge around here.

  3

  The Blue Water Inn was a decent enough establishment. It’d been around since I was a kid, run by the same human for forty years. The whole place screamed of rustic hospitality with its antler decor, wooden beams, and well-crafted furniture. Unfortunately, the inn part of the title hadn’t been in operation for quite some time. That was Herc’s wife’s side of the enterprise. When she passed, the old man never quite kept up with anything other than the kitchen and the bar. While the establishment had “inn” in the name, it was more of the local hang-out.

  Herc worked the bar, and Deity manned the kitchen. Each had respective staff that assisted them from time to time, but I could guarantee that every time I walked into the Blue Water Inn I would see both of them. Herc stood behind the long polished bar, tinted with an oak finish, clearing some used glasses. I could only see glimpses of Deity through the little window where she put up ready food. She was almost always rushing about, preparing meals, and prepping ingredients. I hardly ever caught her eye, but in the rare times I did, I made sure to wave and put on the friendliest smile I could manage.

  She always waved back.

  Tonight, I didn’t see Deity in the window and figured she was bent down, checking the oven, or in the back, gathering some for the next plate. I tried to not let my disappointment rock me too much as I made my way to my favorite seat.

  There were plenty of comfortable places to sit at the Blue Water Inn. Several of the seats were occupied even now, with regulars. Other human farmers, I recognized as their fields were next to mine. Some gnome travelers drank together in a booth. A mixed family of a human and a demon sat with their three young children, trying to share a not-so-peaceful meal. A lone elf huddled over his drink at the end of the bar.

  The barstool practically had my imprint in it, I sat there so often. It was right on the corner of the bar, directly facing the projection on the wall where I watch the fight unimpeded. Herc’s place didn’t have the most comfortable stools, and in reality, I was a bit too big for them to be honest. But it was the only place in the whole bar area where the fight was clearly visible.

  However, when I approached that section of the bar, I stopped in my tracks. Sitting around the corner was a group of young males, all of various races. They took up four sea
ts, including mine.

  I blinked several times to make sure that I saw things correctly. My gaze flitted from the group to Herc to the group and back again. I stomped up to the group and quickly noticed they were all halves.

  Halves were half-races, a mix between humans and another race. While humans were not granted magic, we were the only race able to crossbreed with other races. This resulted in half-orcs, half-dwarves, half-giants, and the like. Halves, as they were collectively known, had magic but not nearly as much as their non-human parent. That’s why it had been such a big deal when Warpin got to fight in the MFL as a half-giant. Despite his weakness at having a lesser special move than other fighters, he still managed to be one of the greatest in the ring.

  The fact that I didn’t recognize any of these young males made me stop in my tracks a little. I knew most of the people in our rural country town of Laine, and if I didn’t know their names right away, it meant they wouldn’t know mine. And they wouldn’t know that was my seat.

  I was already running late. The match was supposed to start in just a few minutes, and I couldn’t stand the fact that because of some stupid farm stuff that I couldn’t get away from, I was going to miss a match in my seat. A small voice in my head told me it was trivial. I could sit anywhere in the bar and still see the projection just fine. However, that voice quickly got smaller as I saw the half-elf that had been sitting in my seat vacate it.

  I snatched my chance and slid onto the stool, trying to be inconspicuous about the fact that I was now in the center of this group.

  “That seat’s taken,” the half-demon tried to tell me. His eyes flashed yellow when he said it, like a threat.

  I responded by staring straight ahead at the projection, waiting for the fight to begin.